canines and pearls
by rhysand
Summary: she is a wolf in sheep's clothing. the knife is hurled, but at that very moment, she hesitated and that was the last she remembered before claws struck at her. –au based loosely off beauty and the beast, gruvia


**summary:** she is a wolf in sheep's clothing. the knife is hurled, but at that very moment, she hesitated and that was the last she remembered before claws struck at her. –au based loosely off beauty and the beast, gruvia

 **series:** fairy tail

 **rating:** m

 **genre:** drama/romance

 **pairing:** gray &juvia

 **warning:** there will be small triggers, such as blood and abuse. but will be mentioned before a chapter starts!

 **note:** recently watched beauty and the beast so why not write a fic based off of it? and i've been getting into gruvia lately, probably from the latest chapters lmao

* * *

Frail knuckles knocked against a large door, skin deathly white against the tanned wood. Despite the rain that poured down, lightning flashing in the distance and thunder clapping, the estate seemed oddly… quiet. Hushed, silent, as if it was deserted. She had found the right place, then. If her superiors were right.

Visit the prince of the east, they said, for he had done something to one of the high witches. Something that had left her heartbroken. And find out if he was truly as vain and arrogant as she said, and if he was, give him a fate worse than death.

As if on cue, shuffling was heard and a creak followed, a young man poking his rugged head from between the crack, eyes falling down onto the aged women who had knocked. For a moment her fading vision was blinded from the light inside, squinting in order to get a proper look at the man. His face was disinterested and bored, lips falling into a scowl. As if he had been born sour.

There he was, Prince Gray Fullbuster of the east, the damned mortal.

Not much of the boy was seen since his parent's death, besides rumours of seeing him at certain balls that he had been dragged to. But that had stopped almost a year ago. Now he ignored civilisation— and when he did interact with others, he was not kind, save for his maids and butlers. One incident had lead a meeting between him and a coven of witches, and had ended on terrible terms. Lower witches did not have to authority to know, and had to be done what they ordered, which is why she was in this horrid weather and in this just as horrid form— at his palace.

He did not speak before the women at his door step did.

"I am a traveller," The old lady cooed, accent thick and foreign, her aged hands digging into her basket to pull out a single blue carnation. A rare beauty in anyone's eyes. "I will pay you with this for shelter for a single night, and will leave as soon as the sun is up."

The fact that he had opened the door surprised her. But now began the test.

"No." False surprise flickered over her features, while his remained the same. Defensive, cold, calculating. As she expected.

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his blue black hair. As he spoke, he studied the flower in her hand curiously. And began to assess her instead. "A flower isn't a type of payment. There's no way I can let you stay here for free. So, what else do you have to offer? Money, jewels, your body? Something that won't welter and die in a week? Though, you look like it's almost _your time_."

"But you can't leave an old," She emphasized on that word, since he just had to mention her appearance. If only he knew her hair was not grey but dark purple, her skin was flawless and not wrinkled, and her body was one that any man could appreciate. "Defenceless woman in this weather at _night_."

"You've lasted this long." False grey hairs poked out of the hood of her coat and wrinkles shone of her forehead, more prominent due to the frown she was now dawning. "I'm not letting you inside. You're barely a _commoner_ and I'm a lord. I don't know if you're going to take something to sell instead of those rags you call clothing, or even worse, kill me in my sleep."

Ah, now _that_ was the arrogance that she had heard of.

"I swear not to."

He raised a brow, arms crossing over his chest. A silent, mocking question. Muscles were hidden under the fabric, muscles ready to drag the woman back into the forest, if irked enough. Not that he would. His clothes were perfect, he would most likely throw them out if she even touched them.

His arrogance was not a lie or rumour spread amongst the local villages. The high witch had not lied.

"I'll ask once more." She paused to let him sink in her words, a warning glint in her eyes. A warning that he promptly ignored. "Please let me stay the night. It does not matter where, even if it's in a barn, just shelter is needed."

"And _I'll_ say it again, _no_." He went to go back inside and close the door, but a jolt of pain and a tug caused him to stumble back outside.

He had failed the test. Now, his fate would be worse than death. The words echoed in her head over and over. Her hands, small and bony, enough to perhaps even look like a skeletons hand, had wrapped around his wrist. Her grip was oddly strong and her gaze was old and new and the same and different. Human tongue could not explain her stare but recognition shone in his eyes, like he had seen the same glint before.

"You will pay for being heartless, young lord. You do not deserve this wealth or power. Instead, you will suffer your days as the _brute_ you truly are." Her short, yet sharp, nails dug into his exposed skin on his forearm before pain flowed up his arm and to the rest of his body. "And you will only have three years to fix your ways. To find a human to love you— the true you."

* * *

Seconds, minutes, or hours. He had no idea how long he had been there for. All he knew was the pain was almost unbearable, felt worse than death.

He threw off her hand, but the pain continued along his body. Over his arms, torso, legs, _everywhere_ , even his soul felt like it was on fire. His blood glowed from under his skin. The white light felt pure. Compared to his soul, that is. But he was changing. His bones were changing, growing, his anatomy was changing… into something that was not human.

His nails literally poked out and became jagged, the hair on his arms grew and grew. His brain could not wrap around the magic and what it was doing, let alone stop it. This woman— this witch— had put a spell on him. Her voice made him look up, eyes once onyx now flecked with silver and violet.

"Remember that, child. Three years to break this curse, until you are a full grown man. You must find a human to love you for _you_. Nothing more, nothing less. But I don't anyone if their right mind would fall for you."

A pained howl left the Lord's throat, echoing through the trees and mountains.

* * *

 **note:** the cliché ending tho, lmao. but yeah the real story starts after this chapter and most of the story will be in juvia's point of view. now i can finally continue on the next chapter of unholy! which is only like 20% done… sorry.

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